Friends Save Friends
by TARDISTraveller
Summary: Short stories in which friendship saves the day - and maybe a life or two. Also published on AO3


Story 1

The Doctor knew the feeling well enough, but it was startling every time. A dangerous situation, one that had a chill racing down his spine and his hair standing on edge. Dread pooling in his stomach, mixing nauseatingly with the ever-present hope that he always kept for emergencies. And then time slowing down. As if this were a movie, and someone had bumped the remote control at the most pivotal moment.

If only this were a movie.

Gods, let this be a movie.

Where were his companions? Hopefully not anywhere near him; nor near the sword-wielding man staring at him like he was a pig on a roast.

Did this planet have pigs? Or roasts? Or men? How could he know; the fear had erased that all from his memory. After the word 'sword-wielding', his brain had short circuited.

Great time for that to happen.

Ah, yes, Nardole was here. A quick, probably life-threatening, glance told him so. The worried cyborg was standing ten feet away, giving him wide eyes beneath a sweaty forehead. Good old Nardole. Knows when he should be worried.

One last question: where was Bill?

Another daring glance, and there she was; fighting off a different guy. That one didn't have a sword, at least. Just a snarling face and nunchucks, of all things.

'Oh Bill', the Doctor thought sadly, 'I'm so sorry'.

What did he usually do, when time slowed down and he was cornered with an enemy approaching? Talk? Yes; talk!

"We can come to an agreement," he said, groaning internally. What was he, an amateur? New at this? They never wanted to 'agree'. Bad guys with swords didn't stop to chat over a cuppa.

The man laughed horribly, lifting his sword ever higher. Two hesitant steps back, and another fearful glance at Nardole, who was helping Bill with her ruffian now.

At least maybe they'd be safe. Or only taken prisoner. Hopefully not hurt or…

The Doctor swallowed over the lump forming in his throat.

"If you let my friends go…" he started, unsure where he wanted to go with that.

"And why would I do that?" The sword guy asked. He sounded a bit like a pirate. Not a cool pirate, either. Just one of the greedy ones, in it for the money and gold.

Silver glistened. And it wasn't until a second too late that the Doctor could place what it was.

Pain, erupting from his midriff and then radiating out.

And suddenly the world was tilting; Nardole and Bill shouted in sync, but he didn't know what they were saying. Maybe a new pop song? Vision dimming; flickering. Was the electricity going out?

And then more pain, as his back collided with the floor and his head followed, settling against the tile. The ceiling, staring down at him. Bright and white and hurting his eyes.

Was the room that tall earlier?

Other sounds now; other bodies hitting the floor. Whose bodies? Nardole! And Bill!

No, there they were standing over him. Their images moved slowly; slower than they did, in fact, which created a weird optical effect. Like watching your hand move through water; not quite right, but not foreign either.

"Doctor?" Nardole said, afraid but masking it beneath a thin layer of feigned control.

Good old Nardole.

Someone was kneeling on his right side, touching his shoulder. Bill. What was she saying?

"Doctor, can you hear me?"

No, that was Nardole again.

"Yes," he tried. It came out all garbled. Had he forgotten how to speak? What the hell was in that sword?

Oh.

Suddenly everything rushed back. Time stood still. His brain caught up. Everything was making more sense now.

And everything was starting to hurt again, too.

"Doctor," Bill's shaky voice called. Her fingers were resting on his cheek now; to calm him, he supposed.

He lifted his right hand in her general direction until she latched onto it with both of her own.

"Bill," he gasped. That took a lot out of him, and he breathed three times to recover.

Suddenly his stomach erupted in pain again. His vision blackened for a moment as someone cried out. No, wait. As he cried out. And then he came back into focus and found Nardole looking very apologetic.

The Doctor looked down and found both of Nardole's hands on his abdomen.

His abdomen, which had far too much red covering it. Soaking his waistcoat, through his shirt. Pouring onto Nardole's hands. Pooling on the floor...

The Doctor let his head fall back, eyes drifting to the ceiling again.

"I'm sorry," Nardole said through tears.

"Not your fault," the Doctor murmured. Only it came out messy again, half of it remaining in his throat somewhere.

Bill squeezed his hand, breathing shakily.

"Stay with us, Doctor."

Was he really doing that badly? He didn't feel so bad. Perhaps that was a bad thing?

How many times had could he use the word 'bad' to describe this day?

Another explosion of pain, even more sudden this time, and his vision went out completely.

When he opened his eyes next, Nardole was jogging beside him. Colors were flashing by, walls whizzing past. Even the ceiling was moving. He tilted his head and closed his eyes to avoid it all.

"We're almost there," said a voice. Someone he knew. Not Nardole. Not Bill. Someone he hadn't seen for a while. "Just hold on."

He opened his eyes and the walls had stopped moving. There were lots of people now; all wearing scrubs and facemasks. All looking at him. They rushed around, to and fro, like there was some kind of big commotion.

He found his left hand and noticed a tube going into it; closed his eyes again. Nauseated. Then he found the right, and saw two hands still holding onto his.

Bill.

He looked up and saw her face, for the first time in what felt like a long time, but what also felt like five minutes. She smiled through tears.

"You're gonna be okay."

For some reason, he believed her. He smiled.

His eyes drifted closed.

And then they opened.

Chaos. Rapid beeping. Deep, gasping breaths. Someone shouting. One or two pleading.

His eyes closed again.

And all the commotion suddenly, finally stopped.

There was silence, and the faint smell of lavender. There was a calm, restful beating. Beeping. Not the shrill of an alarm; just a steady thrum. Like a drum. And the air was stale. Clean and sterile.

Like a…

His eyes flashed open, a light above making his head instantly ache. And then there were two hands in both of his again, each from a different person. A large hand on his shoulder; a smaller one on his forehead.

He blinked, and the light and dancing colors eased into an image. Bill to the right, and Nardole to the left. Both smiling. Both safe. An annoying light glowing right in between them on the ceiling.

He breathed in and felt two cannula in his nose, wrapping up behind his ears. The beeping was coming from the monitor standing behind Nardole, registering both of his hearts. A tube still ran into his hand.

Both of them were still holding onto him. Like they'd never let go.

"Doctor?" Nardole asked, gentle. "How are you feeling?"

Bill threw him a look, which he answered with a silent, mouthed response. The Doctor merely smirked.

"Not my best," he muttered. His throat made him sound worse than he felt, which was a feat.

Suddenly there was a liquid being poured into his mouth, while someone else supported his head. He swallowed it gratefully, too tired to care about the bit that spilled onto his chest. His bare chest. Right. Not alert enough to care about that, either.

And then he was laid back on the pillow, both hands in his friends' once more.

"You gave us a real scare," Nardole said quietly. He looked down right after he said it, biting his bottom lip. Embarrassed or shy. Or still scared.

"I'm sorry," the Doctor murmured, his eyes drifting closed. Then they opened again just as suddenly. "Where are we?"

"UNIT," Bill said. "Kate found us soon after, er…"

Her voice broke off, teary. The Doctor's eyes flickered down to his blanket, then over to the bandages covering his stomach.

So many bandages. How bad had it been? Had he been close to regeneration? Or did it just look worse than it was?

He turned to Nardole for answers of some kind. But Nardole wouldn't even meet his eye anymore. He just stared, blankly, and held his hand so tightly it hurt a little bit.

"Thank you both." The Doctor cleared his throat. "For everything."

"Of course," Nardole said, hardly above a whisper.

"You two weren't hurt?"

Bill shook her head.

"After we saw you go down, we went kind of berserk fighting off the guys. And then Kate came with her team. Arrested both of them for life."

"No one was killed?"

Bill sniffed, looked down. Nardole's grip tightened yet further.

"No. Nobody was killed," he assured. Then he looked down as well, swallowing shakily.

"What's wrong?" The Doctor asked. The pit in his stomach deepened.

"We almost lost you today, Doctor."

Nardole finally met his eyes, and the Doctor almost wished he hadn't. The cyborg's were wet and teary; red.

"You…" Bill swallowed hard. "You coded once before the surgery. And once during."

The Doctor felt his teeth chatter against each other. Another shiver ran up his spine.

One afternoon trip; one man with a sword...he didn't even feel the burn of regeneration. He actually might have just...died. Twice.

"I'm okay," he said, reassuring himself as well as his friends.

"I know," Bill croaked. "I know."

Nardole squeezed his hand yet tighter, but the Doctor let him. If he'd seen his friends die twice in one day, then he'd feel exactly the same way.

"Doctor; promise me…" Nardole cleared his throat. "Promise me you'll keep out of trouble."

"Nardole, I…"

"Not now. When you've recovered. When we're back in your office, and you're well again."

The Doctor nodded.

"Now," Nardole said, acquiring his 'mom' voice. "You both need to get to sleep."

"What about you?" Bill asked.

"I'm half cyborg. I don't need sleep."

"That's not true," the Doctor chided. "I should know, I built him."

Nardole gave him a look that shut him up.

"Bill, there's a bed next door."

"But…"

"You're not gonna get any sleep on the couch in here. I'll keep an eye on him, and I'll wake you if anything happens. But you need to sleep."

Bill sighed, but her tired eyes seemed thankful.

"Goodnight, Doctor. Feel better." She kissed his knuckles before letting go.

"Goodnight, Bill."

Nardole closed the door behind Bill, and then sat beside the Doctor again.

"So I've gotta put up with you all night?" The Doctor joked.

"Other way around, I think." Nardole smirked, but his eyes were sad. "Get some sleep, Doctor. Your body needs it after today."

"Nardole?" The Doctor's eyes fluttered, but he forced them to stay open.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"I think you saved my life today."

Nardole almost dismissed it. But then he sat up straighter and took the Doctor's hand again.

"I think I did." Nardole's eye turned serious. "But please don't make me do it again."

"I'll try not to."

"Now get to sleep."

The Doctor rolled his eyes, but then closed them gratefully.

He fell asleep easily, despite some lingering pain in his abdomen. And he felt Nardole's hand in his for the rest of the night, whether he was fully conscious of it or not.

And it brought him peace.


End file.
